a steadfast soul-birth, tried and true / this is where you sing creation into being
When was the last time you chose / a glass of pinot over fair pay?
Though, no man can disappoint me / as much as the body I was / born into. Kidding, obvi. I’m Chilling!
past mahal / dressed in the garments / of two pronouns.
recently I signed a contract / which stipulates anything / I conceive of as a result / of the job belongs to the job
When I got up before anyone else / I took the heavy clams from the fridge / and put them in a bowl of cool water.
when his niece asks / tell me about Chía, the answer is always just: it’s a long story / but I think what you’re telling me, is that language is an inadequate grieving
Niina Pollari reads the title poem from her new collection published by Soft Skull Press
When I got better I ate / attention, the praise for being alive. There is no praise now. A needle, / a sharp’s box, yellow asking me to slow down.
everything shifts as she twists and spins her hair, lifting it to chignon. / So self-assured, as if the gesture were always hers
your lonely ain’t alone if it’s waiting for him
oh, how my little joys have saved me
at night, when i’m outside and / the wind shakes the chimes,
it sounds like the bell
Everything is an elegy these days, all chipped rings, / clipped wings.
I took my time shrugging / into this divinity
There were two worlds then, the one we lived in and the one she invented, where my aunt remarried and nobody ever went to America
I became an invader myself / a pathogen with survival traits
the smoke of belt burn / and nectarines and me / — I will learn to love him
there is little room for sourness, / little room for anything other than a vibrating joy
I was afraid of being kidnapped.
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